


Those He Lost

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 20:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15493764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: Summary:  The Doctor contemplates his past.





	Those He Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am just borrowing The Doctor. I am not fortunate enough to own anything.
> 
> A/N: This was my very first fan fiction ever, written in February 2012.
> 
> After watching “Journey’s End” for the first time, these ideas started swirling about in my mind. The Doctor’s comment at the end of “The Next Doctor”: “I suppose, in the end, they break my heart” finally did me in. I hope it does the genre justice.

This is wrong.  He shouldn’t be here.  The man stands at the edge of the roof of an abandoned building, his hands thrust into the pockets of his blue pinstriped suit, the wind blowing the tails of his long brown topcoat.  He looks out over the great city, and sighs.  He’s tried to stay away, if not from this place, at least from this  _time_.  He knows in his hearts that nothing good can come of his being here, reliving memories.  It only reminds him of what he’s lost, and the loneliness threatens to engulf him once again.  
  
What  _is_  it about this insignificant little planet that draws him back, time and again, like a Siren’s song?  Who  _are_  these people, these “stupid apes”, as he called them a lifetime ago, that they can affect him so?  “Apes”?  Is that really how he saw them back then?  Reminded of his most recent former self, he recalls how angry and cynical he was when he arrived here, so soon after his regeneration.  So full of self-loathing and guilt.  Bitter and battle scarred and weary to his soul.  
  
There’s a different weariness these days.  The weariness of a man alone, who once knew happiness.  Who wasn’t always so alone.

Unbidden, the image of a young blonde girl with a megawatt smile invades his conscious mind.  He smiles a bittersweet smile.  Rose.  His Rose. Well, not exactly  _his_  anymore, not really.  But she  _was_  his, for a time, for a delightful, exciting, dangerous time.  It was  _she_  who changed him,  _she_  who re-awakened his sense of joy and love of life.  Rose had made him a better man, and for that, he is eternally grateful.  He misses her terribly and hates that he could never bring himself to tell her in words how he cared for her.  He’d left that to his other self, John Smith, the Time Lord Meta-Crisis.  He so hopes she is happy.  
  
Once the walls he had so carefully constructed around his emotions crumbled, the flood of memories could not be stemmed.  He remembers Martha, determined and dedicated Martha.  Courageous beyond imagining.  A serious medical student when he crossed her path.  She wanted to save lives, and he had turned her into a warrior.  She will never know how much he regrets that, or how it pains him to know she loved him, and he was not able to return that love the way she deserved.  At least she had the good sense to leave him, when she could.  
  
And then there was Captain Jack.  The man chuckles softly to himself.  What can one say about Jack?  He’s brash and egotistical and outrageous.  A lover of life in all its forms. Ex-Time Agent and con man.  And friend.  Jack  _was_  his friend.  And loyal to a fault.  He’d give his life for his friends.  And  _had_.  Several times.  The man sighs.  He’s not worthy of such sacrifice.  
  
The most painful memory of all threatens to undo him.  “Donna,” he whispers softly.  His hearts ache at the sound of her name.  His most reluctant companion.  Outspoken and opinionated, but deeply compassionate and kind.  She never let him get away with anything, that one.  She was also the first to recognize that he needed someone, someone to stop him, she said.  She became his conscience and moral compass.  And she was to him what none of the others had been: she was his best friend, and was happy to be just that.  And what he did to her was unthinkable.  She told him she would travel with him forever.  And he had wiped her memory clean of him.  He was doomed to remember; she never would.  But he had kept her safe.  
  
He tried to keep them all safe.  But just being with him was danger enough.  
  
Breathing a sigh from the depth of his soul, the man stepped back from the edge of the building.  Like last time, he swears to himself that this is the last trip here.  And, just like last time, he laughs out loud at the thought.  Of  _course_  he’ll come back.  This insignificant little planet is the closest thing to home since the destruction of Gallifrey.  And these people, these  _companions_ , were the only family he had.  They knew the man he was; they helped create the man he is now; and the memory of them will continue to influence the man he could be.  
  
He walked slowly back to the police box.  As he inserted the small key, he heard the faint sound of singing.  Turning, the Doctor smiled and quietly said, “Merry Christmas, my dear, dear friends.”


End file.
